Fallen Embers
by Caelhir
Summary: Glorfindel and Legolas arrive upon a scene of chaos in a human village, and lend a helping hand.


A new story! This is just a quick one-shot that popped into my head yesterday. I've become very interesting in the character of GLorfindel, so if you know of any good, non-slash stories about him, let me know pronto.

Without further ado, I present:

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**Fallen Embers**

_by Caelhir_

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_**I can feel you all around me **_

_**Thickening the air I'm breathing **_

_**Holding on to what I'm feeling **_

_**Savoring this heart that's healing**_

_**~Flyleaf, "All Around Me"**_

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**_Year 2354 Third Age of Middle Earth_**

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"Hurry, hurry, please!"

The frightened calls of the villagers filled the air as a bonfire lit up the deep midnight of the sky. This was no party-fire, however; a house had gone up in flames, though none yet knew why. The building had been fine one moment and the next, the roof had combusted into flames, which danced in the night sky like a maiden, spinning, snapping and waving long orange arms into the air.

The villagers milled about in a daze like frightened cattle until a scream split the air.

"_There's still people in there! They're trapped!"_

Heads snapped towards the building to see faces crowded at the upper window of the inferno, panicked and pale, terror written plainly across their faces.

Hoofbeats sounded, and two horses had thundered up to the outside of the crowd. One was smaller than the other, grey like a stormcloud, and it looked better suited for speed and agility than for outright strength. The other was tall, white and graceful, his narrow head giving hints of a fine background.

The riders of the two fine mounts leapt to the ground and raced towards the group of terrified townspeople. Their hoods fell back to reveal similar sheets of golden hair, though the shorter rider's hair was darker than the other's. Pointed ears bespoke these two to be of the elven race, and their faces were fair and fine.

As for weapons, the taller elf carried a long sword at his waist, and had a bow and quiver of arrows strapped across his back. The younger also wore a sword, shorter and curved that the other's. He also carried two long knives attached to his own set of quiver and bow.

Both wore expressions of apprehension, for their sensitive ears had clearly picked up the shouts of the building's occupancy. The elder turned to the younger, and they conferred quietly in their flowing, silvery tongue even as they approached the village people. The taller of the two seemed to be trying to convince his companion of something, for the other responded in clipped tones, eyes defiant and face set. It was clear that this elf was an unwilling participant. The elder (there wasn't really any way to tell, but this one simply _seemed_ older) said something firmly to the younger, who seemed suddenly abashed, as if guilty of his reluctance to help the village people, and they fell silent.

The townsfolk had grown quit as the elves approached them, for they had heard both good and bad tales of elven behavior. Some elves, it was said, kidnapped children to raise them and twist them into the elves' own beliefs. But it was also said that the elves were brave, kind and noble, that they aided those in need and helped wherever they could. Right now, the townsfolk were wary, but ready to accept the aid of the two immortals if they offered it.

The elves had reached the knot of people, and now the elder of the two spoke calmly.

"Hello, my name is Glorfindel. We saw the blaze from a ways off and have come to your aid. Please tell us, to the best of your knowledge, what has happened here."

The townsfolk tittered amongst themselves until another scream rent the air, this time coming from the blazing building itself.

"_Please, why won't any of you help?"_

The elves exchanged a look, then turned back to the people. This time is was the darker-haired elf who spoke.

"Please be ready with blankets water for them to drink, and healing supplies to treat burns. If you have none, we will leave ours." Turning to his companion, he spoke in that same fluid tongue. The other answered, and they turned and moved through the crowd to the opposite side of the street as the blazing building. Their gait betrayed haste and apprehension.

They began to shrug off their weapons, and left them carefully in a pile. Now running, they went to the building.

"Please do what we have told you."

The taller elf, Glorfindel, spoke to the townsfolk before both elves drew deep breaths and plunged into the inferno.

The villagers stood for another moment before a kindly-looking woman, the midwife Lora, came forward with the proper things to treat burns. Kind and plump, she set to work setting up a healing station. In little groups, the other villagers began to arrange things as the elves had instructed them. Several men set off for the river and well to collect water, both for drinking and for putting out the blaze.

Inside the house, Glorfindel and Legolas held their cloaks over their noses and mouths, for the fire had begun to eat away at the house's frame, and smoke filled the whole of it.

Legolas looked around, trying to ascertain the position of the stairs from where he stood with Glorfindel. His eyes had immediately begun to water as soon as he had stepped into the building, the smoke irritating them so tears welled in his sight.

Turning to Glorfindel, Legolas shouted over the hissing and snapping of the flames and the dangerous creaking of the building's failing frame.

"We need to get those people out!"

"Thanks for stating the obvious, Legolas!" Glorfindel replied, rolling his own watering eyes. "Come, I can see the stairs from here!"

The two elves darted through the smoke and flames to reach the stairs, which they began to ascend rapidly, for the people were still trapped, after all. Legolas wondered why they did not simple come down the stairs as he and Glorfindel had so easily gotten up them. Then, as they rounded the landing on the stairs, Legolas saw why none of the people had left their fiery prison.

A timber had fallen from the ceiling as now lay smouldering across the doorway of the burning room. Glorfindel glanced at Legolas, who was the smaller of the two and would be more easily able to slip over the beam to access the terrified people inside the room.

Legolas nodded in acquiescence and moved forward, cloak still over his mouth and nose, eyes reflecting the flames eerily. Sizing up the log, he backed up a few paces until he stood again next to Glorfindel. The elder golden-haired elf looked at his young companion, puzzled.

"Is the beam too hard to get around?"

But Legolas did not answer, his determined face covered in a sheen of sweat from the sheer heat of the blaze. He glared at the log, then without warning, he leapt into motion, flying forwards at the log. In one swift leap, he had flown over it and into the room. Glorfindel was impressed.

Once inside, Legolas shook back his damp hair and made his way to the group of around a dozen people who stood terrified next to the window, trying to breathe the fresh air that was out of their reach. Legolas approached cautiously, for he knew that a panic-induced craze would spread amongst the people if they thought he was anything but their savior.

Raising his hands in front of him in a neutral way, he spoke loudly over the blaze to catch the attention of the people.

"Please listen to me," he said. "My name is Legolas. I'm here to help you."

The people eyed him warily until one man stepped forward to gaze desperately at the elf before him.

"Please-" His throat rasped with the smoke around him. "Please take my wife out. Rescue her first, please."

At the man's words, other people stepped forward as well, giving their own wishes for being removed form the flames. Legolas held up his hands again.

"I can take one at a time. Please decide, and quickly, who will be the first."

The people looked at each other, before one woman laid her thin hands on a young girl's shoulders. The girl was young, and her head came only to the woman's own shoulders. The other villagers in the room nodded and stepped back as Legolas took the hands of the young girl.

"Trust me _penneth,_" he said reassuringly, "Let us go."

He swept the girl into his arms and walked to the door, realized that as he did, he would not be able to leap the beam with a body in his arms. Looking for another way, he found that he would be able to get out more easily if the beam was moved down a bit more. He could them hand the villagers to Glorfindel, who could escort them out, and return for the others.

Setting the girl down, he called for help from Glorfindel.

"Glorfindel! _Ethogo nin!" _(Help me!)

Glorfindel moved as close as he could to the burning timber as he dared, calling, "_Sevig maur ethogad?" _(Do you need to be taken out of there?)

Quickly explaining his plan, Legolas said, _"Boe an edraith essain." _(They need to be taken out of there.)

Their eyes met, and Glorfindel said quietly, but loudly enough for Legolas to hear,

"_Gweston i gerithon han, mellon-nin." _(I swear that I will do it, my friend.)

Bothe elves knew that the weakening supports, combined with the ferocious fire and nearly-panicked people, would create a difficult rescue scenario.

Glorfindel asked quickly, "Can you get more than one out to me? if I can take three or four down at a time, it will be faster."

Legolas nodded and prepared to shift the timber. Both elves looked at each other, silently counting to three, then at the same time, the grabbed hold of the beam and shoved it down towards the ground in order to create more room for Legolas to pass people to Glorfindel.

With a great groaning, snapping _crunch_, the log crashed though the floor to the level below, leaving a great gap where it had fallen.

Now weakened further, the elves felt the whole building tremble. Without another word, Legolas picked up the little girl again, whose eyes were glazed and terrified. He leapt over the gap, for it was too far for him to pass her safely to Glorfindel. Once GLorfindel had her, he leapt back and escorted the next three people, one by one, over the gap. When the four people were safely with Glorfindel, the elf of Imladris locked eyes with Legolas, bidding him temporary farewell before herding the people in front of him. Legolas went to the window to make sure they made it outside all right, and sure enough, he saw the townsfolk who had been outside rush forwards to take the people form Glorfindel.

Glorfindel looked up at the window. Legolas signaled him to hurry, for pieces of the building were now falling around the remaining eight people and himself.

In a matter of seconds Glorfindel was back at the doorway, and Legolas had brought him five people instead of four. He felt the need to get the people out now, nevermind himself.

Again, Glorfindel disappeared and reappeared, taking two of the remaining three. Giving Legolas a puzzled look, for the building seemed as though it would collapse at any moment, Glorfindel waited to take the two people out. Legolas crouched next to the last person, who was close to hyperventilation, and was thoroughly working up a clear panic. Legolas glanced at Glorfindel and gave a dismissive gesture, telling him to go. Glorfindel took the two people out, but as he cleared the building, it groaned loudly one last time, and turning around, he felt his heart clench painfully.

The door frame had collapsed, and without its support, the whole of the building tottered dangerously. Several people screamed, and one woman burst into tears.

"_That's my brother still in there! Get him out! Please!"_

Legolas appeared at the window with the young man, who seemed to have calmed down, if only slightly. Legolas spoke to him quickly, then gestured at Glorfindel to get ready to catch the young man.

Glorfindel gathered a few other men, and together they ran to the base of the dangerously dying building.

Legolas helped the man to sit on the windowsill before the young man let himself fall from the ledge. The young woman screamed again, but Glorfindel and his helpers caught the man and let him to the ground, where he ran to his sister. She met him crying into his shoulder. He turned to Glorfindel and asked quietly,

"Will your friend be all right? He can't get out. Another beam fell and blocked the door-"

But before he could finish telling the elf what happened, peoples' screams filled the night air.

The building had stood for as long as it could, but now it began to fall, crumbling and crashing to the ground.

Glorfindel could only watch in horror as he tried to believe that his young friend would be fine, that Legolas would find a miraculous way out. But in his heart, he knew the truth. He had seen too much death and been in too many horrifying situations to think that escape at this point was possible.

Inside the building, Legolas was having similar thoughts as the building came down around him. He ran across the room to the door only to find that the block was too firmly wedged to budge at all. Swearing loudly (for he knew none would ever hear him), the elf tried to remain calm, but at that moment, the whole building tipped suddenly as it truly began to collapse. Legolas cried out in terror, and looked desperately for a way out of this fiery prison.

He looked wildly around and was about to run for the window when a heavy beam fell right in front of him. He stepped back-

-into empty air, where the first beam had fallen originally.

He shouted in surprise, but had no more time to think as he slammed into the ground, where everything went dark for a moment.

When Legolas came around, it was to a world filled with choking smoke and hot, hot wood, burning all around him. He groggily tried to move, but fell back as his head spun wildly around, causing the orange of the fire to wink crazily at him. He could vaguely hear cries and shouts, but distantly, as though through a haze.

He winced as a burning timber crashed down to his left, and he rolled onto his stomach, pushed himself up, and crawled away from the fire. He realized that he didn't remember where the door was. He closed his eyes, thinking. His foggy brain wouldn't respond.

He continued to move, not knowing he was headed in the wrong direction. He raised his eyes to check for danger.

He cried out as a burning ember fell onto his back. He twisted as it burned his shoulder, trying to shake it loose. He staggered to his feet and moved faster, stumbling as his dizzy head spun the burning place around him.

And then, he felt his wildly thumping heart stop.

The building was falling, but he couldn't hear it. Trapped in a silent panic, the elf tried to jump away from the falling timbers, but they were all around him, creating a tighter prison, the hot air burning him.

Tears leaked form his irritated eyes and smoke burned his throat. He tried to find a way out, but his confused mind didn't respond. He was trapped.

Outside, Glorfindel was working himself into a frenzy, for there was no sign of Legolas from the steadily collapsing building, though not long ago he had heard a cry go up from inside the building.

Glorfindel's heart was rent in two as the building slowly fell in on itself.

Inside, Legolas had collapsed, struggling to breathe as the smoke filled the air around him. But as he began to crawl back the way he had come, something crashed into him from behind, knocking him flat and pinning his body to the ground. The weight of the timber that ensnared him was enough to crush his ribs as he struggled to free himself. He called for help, fully panicking as the fire raged, and finally, the whole of the building fell, showering him with embers and bits of burning wood.

Silently apologizing to Glorfindel for not getting out in time, Legolas let go of his fragile hold on consciousness.

Glorfindel, however, was not giving up on his friend's life just yet. As the wreckage settled, he leapt forward, and a few of the men he had called to him went with him. The four of them approached the burning ruin and looked desperately for any signs of life among the wreckage.

The men called for water as Glorfindel stared into the ruin, not hearing the hoofbeats of approaching riders beyond the scene. He disregarded the stir among the villagers until a hand clapped into his shoulder, and a familiar voice spoke in his ear.

"What happened here?"

Glorfindel turned an empty face to Elladan, who stood next to him while Elrohir regarded the wreckage of the building.

"There was a fire..."

Elladan snorted. "I can see that, Glorfindel. I meant, why do you stand here as if your soul has died?"

Elrohir joined his brother at Glorfindel's side, and without taking his eyes from the ruin, asked quietly, "Where is Legolas? He was with you, wasn't he?"

Glorfindel gasped as Glorfindel his his eyes in a shaking hand, not answering the unspoken question.

Elrohir and Elladan leapt into motion when Glorfindel made no sign of movement.

By now, the fire had burned itself out, and it was easier for the twin elves to approach and begin to dig in the ashes. Shifting timbers, the two brothers kept their eyes alert for any signs of their friend.

Finally, after ten minutes of frantic searching, during which Glorfindel joined the twins in the hunt for Legolas, Elrohir gave a shout and dived forward. The village men who had been helping jumped as he did so, and Elladan advanced as well. Glorfindel had frozen, dreading what the twins would bring out with them.

Elrohir had seized a white hand peeking out from under a fallen cage of timbers. Elladan turned to Glorfindel.

"Help us move this, will you?"

In a daze, Glorfindel moved forward and helped Elladan to move the logs. Elrohir pulled the limp, ash-covered body out form underneath the mess and clear of the wreckage.

The other two elves rushed to his side and began to brush off Legolas' face. Elrohir lowered his head to the inert elf's chest, listened, his brow furrowed. He raised his head, looking confused, then lowered it again, looking for a heartbeat he could not find. Elladan pushed his brother out of the way and tried to find the life in Legolas' prone form for himself. He too sat up, looking bereaved. Glorfindel snapped into action.

"Out of the way," he ordered curtly, and the two younger elves moved out of his way. Kneeling next to Legolas, Glorfindel pulled out a dagger and held it in front of Legolas' mouth, then pulled it away. There was no mist on the knife.

Glorfindel covered Legolas' mouth with his own, breathing for the lifeless elf, then ordered one of the twins to do it while Glorfindel slammed his fist into Legolas' chest, prompting a heart beat. After a short time, he told Elladan, who had leapt in to help Glorfindel, to stop, and the golden-haired elf pressed his head to Legolas' chest once again. Closing his eyes, Glorfindel's whole body seemed to sag.

Thinking the worst, Elrohir and Elladan collapsed on each other, eyes wide and disbelieving.

Glorfindel glanced at them and smiled.

"He lives. We must get him to your father."

The villagers would never know if the younger golden elf would live or not, as they watched the four mysterious elves ride away from their town. But the story of his bravery would be passed down from father to son, father to son, until it passed from story into revered legend.

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Wow, that's the most elvish I've ever used. That web site is priceless.

Read and review please, even if you hated it, and please be kind and considerate in your review! Merci beaucoup!

*All Sindarin translations are from http :/ realelvish. net/ allinone_ sindarin. php


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